


Christmas Bliss

by deklava



Series: Silence at the Diogenes [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Diogenes Club, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Rough Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deklava/pseuds/deklava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has had a rough and aggravating year. Fortunately, Mycroft can fix anything, especially at the Diogenes Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Bliss

Sherlock felt himself relax under the masseuse’s touch. Normally he hated Christmas Eve, with the noise and lights and  _ people _ . But this early gift from Mycroft was actually turning it into something pleasant. 

Her skilled fingers found every single knotted muscle and taut tendon and set them free, leaving him languid and happy. As his nostrils flared, taking in the rich aroma from the log fire and freshly cut evergreen that lined the mantle, he wondered lazily what John and Mary were doing right now. Trying frantically to wrap all the gifts before tomorrow’s Christmas dinner at their place? Sherlock’s lip curled in mingled sympathy and contempt. Holidays and hospitality: let them have it. He preferred being here at the Diogenes on Christmas Eve, getting his every need attended to.

When the masseuse nudged the insides of his thighs, he opened them a little too eagerly, knowing what was coming next. Reaching back, he grabbed the cheeks of his arse and spread them, exposing his hole. 

Something firm, blunt, and slick nudged at his entrance. Sherlock took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, relaxing enough for her to push a generously sized nozzle into his body. It grazed the swollen bulge of his prostate as it went in, making him groan and rub his cock over the sheet that covered the massage table. The leather ring snapped around the base prevented him from doing anything but leak, but it felt  _ good _ .

The noise was muted, preserving the sanctity of the Diogenes silence. The moment Sherlock had arrived, the attendants tightly gagged him with a black silk scarf before stripping him naked and delivering him to the treatment room. He didn’t protest: the thought that he might be unable to remain quiet on his own added to the excitement.

After squeezing a generous amount of warm lube into him, the woman helped Sherlock off the table, keeping hold of his arm until he was steady on his feet. Then she draped a blood-red silk robe across his shoulders and pointed to a closed door. He nodded, tied the robe closed, and approached, conscious of the way his trapped erection caused the garment to tent obscenely. The lube, which he carefully kept inside, sloshed warmly against his prostate with each forward step, making his teeth dig into the soft gag.

God, it had been such a long time.

******

When he entered the room, Mycroft stood. The other three men, who were good-looking strangers, remained sitting, clutching their prewarmed Scotch glasses and devouring Sherlock with their eyes.

“Gentlemen,” Mycroft said, “this is Sherlock Holmes. My younger brother, and the one you’ve come to see this evening.”

Sherlock shivered when his older brother guided him into the center of the room, which was awash in firelight and shadow. 

“As you all can see, he needs your services rather urgently. Like he needed mine the first time I took him.”

Mycroft clasped Sherlock by the back of the neck and positioned him forcefully across the massive arm of a leather chair. The detective grunted as his face sank into the seat, leaving his arse upturned and on display.

“How I remember that day,” Mycroft continued as he raised the hem of Sherlock’s robe to display those white buttocks to the eager audience. “After listening to him plead for hours, I pressed him against the surface of my Damascus wood desk and took some time preparing him. His virgin flesh was exquisitely tight. Practically crushed my fingers as I scissored him open.”

Sherlock whimpered when skilled fingers deftly penetrated his slick hole, filling and teasing him. His voice deepened to a groan and he pushed back for more.

“Every so often I’d crook my fingers to rub against his prostate. He’d never been stimulated like that before, and the bliss on his face was absolutely priceless, gentlemen. I knew he was mine, to use as I wished.” 

Sherlock was leaking now, a transparent stream of pre-ejaculate dripping from his bobbing shaft to the Moroccan rug. When Mycroft lightly massaged his prostate, he gave a muffled cry and arched his back. The chair’s padded arm pressed against his stomach but there was no friction for his cock, which drove him mad. He took deep breaths through his nose, the scent of Mycroft’s cologne making him dizzy with lust.

“Each time I’d pull my fingers out, he’d push back against me like the desperate little slut he was becoming. What a sight he was, rutting like a rent boy against my desk, which was covered with treaties and other game-changing documents. We’re quite lucky his whorish behaviour didn’t cause a war.”

Mycroft chuckled when Sherlock tried to angle for friction. He eased his fingers out and spread his brother’s arse cheeks wide open.

“Look at that, gentlemen. How could anyone resist that beautiful pink flesh, wet and glistening and waiting for you?” 

The silence that followed was heavy. Mycroft pulled Sherlock to his feet, turned him around, and hugged him close. Beneath the expensive wool suit, Sherlock could feel his older brother’s heart galloping madly. 

“Mycroft,” he moaned into the silk across his mouth. “I need....”

He needn’t have spoken. Mycroft always knew. Dulcet, upper-class tones making the words extra-filthy, the elder Holmes queried, “Do you need a cock in your lovely, slick hole, brother mine? Need to be fucked until you’re positively dripping?”

Sherlock nodded wildly. His shaking fingers found Mycroft’s lapels and crushed them. The grip grew even tighter when sofa cushions creaked softly and footsteps approached.

One of the guests lifted the hem of his robe and trailed a finger around the sensitive rim of his lightly stretched hole.

“He’s remarkable, Mycroft. I must congratulate you.”

Sherlock detected the tones of an upper-class banker. Outside the Diogenes, he would have mocked the man, bankers being his least favourite species of fellow human. Now he just wanted to be touched and used.

Another hand grasped the detective’s firm arse cheek.

“I concur with Barry. Exquisite.”

“Hold yourself open, brother mine,” Mycroft murmured into Sherlock’s ear. The younger Holmes  kept his face pressed against his brother’s dress shirt as he reached back and spread his buttocks for easy attention. 

Thanks to Mycroft’s fingering, lube was trickling steadily down the back of Sherlock’s thighs. It glistened in the firelight, making him appear as desperate and wanton as he felt.

“Christ, it’s like he’s wet for us,” one man muttered before licking the lube from one thigh while one of his associates tackled the other. Sherlock shuddered, bracing himself against his brother’s chest so he wouldn’t fall over. When one of his impromptu lovers dipped a tongue into his twitching hole, Sherlock wailed softly and spread his cheeks even more, fingers digging bruises into his pale flesh.

“Beautiful, Sherlock. Positively exceptional,” Mycroft praised him. “They’re starting slow with you, getting you used to being filled before they stretch you wide, one after the other, and put you in your place. You’ve got an arrogant mouth, dear brother, so there was no shortage of takers for tonight.”

He seized his brother’s rich curls and forced him to look up.

“I wonder if you will be so impudent when they’re fucking you like stallions, hitting your sweet spot every time while you’re forbidden to come.”

Sherlock whimpered again. The sound escalated in both intensity and desperation as someone sucked his smooth balls, their warm and wet mouth making his eyes roll back in his head. He spread his legs even further to give them a better angle, glad that Mycroft was holding him up. 

As he bent more at the waist and arched his back, Sherlock’s cheek pressed against Mycroft’s crotch. Feeling the hard member confined within the tailored trousers, he nuzzled it, delighting in the dampness that quickly spread in the fabric. When he heard his brother’s breath catch sharply, he smiled.

Fingers joined the tongue in his hole, making him shiver and stumble. “That’s a good slut,” one of the men said as hands snaked down to his chest and pinched his hard nipples. “Ready to be fucked now?”

“Isn’t it rather obvious?” Mycroft said. “Gentlemen, I believe it is time to fuck my brother senseless.”

As he spoke, he undid his zip with one hand while keeping the other buried in Sherlock’s hair. The gag came loose, but the desperate detective barely had time to lick his dry lips before Mycroft’s long, thick member plunged into his throat. At precisely the same time, hands gripped his hips and a sheathed erection pushed into his body.

Sherlock choked at the sudden onslaught, but collected himself rapidly and began to suck with the expertise his brother loved, cheeks hollowed and tongue flat. The cock in his arse wasn’t overly thick but it was long, and each thrust shoved him forward, sending Mycroft deeper down his throat. 

They were rough with him. The oily social niceties that bankers were known for vanished, replaced by muttered obscenities and manhandling that wouldn’t have been out of place at a fraternity gang bang. Expensive Scotch dripped onto his back, licked off by famished tongues that left a few bites in their wake. 

It was disorienting. Sometimes it hurt. And he loved it. 

The tension, disgust, and anger that had been tormenting him after a week of dealing with fools was being literally fucked out of him, one man at a time. At one point he nearly fell, but someone grabbed him around the waist and kept him on his feet. 

Mycroft took his time, wanting to keep his brother’s mouth busy while one cock after another ravaged the latter’s greedy arse. 

“Look at you, in a state of complete and utter subordination,” he chided before giving such a hard thrust that tears ran down Sherlock’s cheeks and highlighted the glow in his skin.”Thighs burning as you struggle to hold yourself upright and mouth so full you can’t indulge in your usual impertinence.”

Someone’s warm hand caressed Sherlock’s shaft, thumb gently rubbing the livid red tip before beginning to stroke him expertly. The younger man sobbed in mingled frustration and ecstasy, sweat plastering his curls to his skull and eyes afire with mindless arousal. He was so close, but the ring circling the base of his cock kept it all in until someone -Mycroft- took enough pity on him.

“Brother... you  _ are _ a wonder....”

Although nearly mad with desperation, Sherlock felt his brother’s imminent orgasm in time to widen his throat and take it all, relishing  the warm splash and thrill of victory. It wasn’t often that he made Mycroft lose control, and the thrill of accomplishment almost took the edge off his predicament.

Almost.

As his brother’s cock slipped out of his mouth, leaving thick strings of drool and semen in its wake, Sherlock knew he was about to come harder than he had in ages. The pent-up energy made his knees shake and sweat drip from his lithe form. 

“Please,” he begged.

Mycroft, who had tucked himself back in and wiped his hands with a fine linen handkerchief, gazed down at him, one brow raised.

“Please what, Sherlock?”

The man who had been fucking him came with a shout and withdrew, so Sherlock collapsed to the rug, shaking. His cock was red, slick with pre-ejaculate, and so hard that his entire groin area ached.

“Please, Mycroft, let me come!”

Now Mycoft dropped to his knees on the rug, behind Sherlock, and gathered his younger brother onto his lap. Using one hand to press Sherlock’s back tightly against his chest, he reached down with the other and unsnapped the cock ring.

The result was instant and dramatic. Sherlock came everywhere, showering the rug, the furniture, and some of the onlookers with his seed. Tidal waves of ecstasy crashed over him, robbing him of breath and nearly making him pass out from the sheer force of it. When he found his voice he began to scream, but someone clamped a firm hand over his mouth, preserving the sanctity of the Diogenes even now.

Mycroft’s fingers closed around his stuttering erection, stroking him with such skill that even more semen gushed forth. Sherlock shuddered helplessly and kept coming, unable to resist even if he wanted. 

At last it was all over. He slumped back into his brother’s arms, too blissed-out to keep his eyes open. Inside his mind palace, all was warmth, darkness, and contentment. The last thing he heard before tumbling into a sated sleep was Mycroft’s voice in his ear.

“I should arrange to have this done to you more often.”

It was one of the few moments when the Holmes brothers were in complete agreement.


End file.
